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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23244397">A million pages of lies</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LocalAccident/pseuds/LocalAccident'>LocalAccident</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Afraid of Monsters &amp; Cry of Fear</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Depression, Love/Hate, M/M, Other, Psychology, alter ego</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 15:08:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>545</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23244397</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LocalAccident/pseuds/LocalAccident</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When did they start remembering all these details?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Book Simon/Simon, Simon Henriksson/Simon Henriksson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A million pages of lies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            A translation of

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23294284">Когда миллион страниц лжи</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/LocalAccident/pseuds/LocalAccident">LocalAccident</a>.
        </li>

    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Simon has no one but his own nightmares. Fear gripped throat with cold hands, was smelling of blood and voice reminded of cigarette smoke. Alter-ego, main character. Entering the room, he throws gun on the floor and grabs his creator by the hair. Simon hisses but can’t say a word. After this it’s more painful but easier to breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Book Simon picks up piece of one of many articles from the floor he giggles and reads some parts. In the beginning he wheezes and in these moments it seems to Simon that somebody is using knife on glass. However then voice becomes viscous and narcotic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you do not know how to express feelings, they will not understand you. It is difficult to communicate harmoniously with people, when instead of pain we show anger, instead of vulnerability - wrath of the accuser, instead of </span>
  <em>
    <span>I'm afraid of losing you</span>
  </em>
  <span> we say </span>
  <em>
    <span>Let's break up</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Is it any wonder that we are not understood in these cases?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How many words like this was before the accident?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you feel now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Simon is reading booklet from pack of antidepressants his hands look pale in lamp’s light and unbelievably cold. When Simon is clothing eyes he feels bitter taste of pills on his lips. Alter-ego remembers these details but never says it to his creator. This feels strange, unnatural. A mixture of pain and fondness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>When sun sets they both sit on the porch. They both feel that they overstepped the line. Sun gives way for first stars. Noise of the engine of David’s car wraps sitting guys. Already older disabled and teenager in bloody hoodie. Both were in their own nightmare but now thoughts about it seem unimportant. Stupid. Unwanted. Heat of another's palm seems real.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Book Simon approaches his creator and stands really close he can see grey iris.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They were brighter”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was a long time ago”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then they stop talking. If silence is too long one Simon will try to break nearly invisible connection.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Simon can’t sleep he remembers the very beginning. Attempts to kill main character, crossed words and torn pages. Constant migraines and unconscious creation of what he wanted to become. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Book Simon can’t sleep he remembers the very beginning. Attempts to understand why blood can’t be wiped off, from where he has so many scars. Constant fear and realization of his madness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Creation is always stronger than it’s creator. Stronger physically, stronger mentally. Only hate he can’t overcome. Book Simon wanted to kill his creator. Real Simon dreamed about death from his character’s hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Doctor advised to keep a diary, record every thought that leads to bad emotions, Simon just nodded, wiping ink off fingers. However it was not like writing a book, no. He says that everything is alright, that boxes of sleeping pills are hidden in cabinet, that there is no fear. And Doctor believes him or maybe just pretends to. No one should interfere with this. That’s not their story.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When both of them understand that end is near, Simon is ready to write so much. Fit all reality that he lived in. All love and fear. But Book Simon only shakes his head. Nothing is ending.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Million pages of lies.</span>
</p>
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